You want to sleep but the owls won't let you. Fire's dead. Lean against a centuries-old pine tree and wait for the sun. Times passes, or it seems to.
And later, after I hear the ducks plash on the pond's far edge, I piss on the ashes, and head for the trail. The dog follows, tired but happy. Something crashes in the underbrush - probably a bear - but we keep walking. Sometimes you have to.
The world is okay, and life is too. Some forms mean more to me than others but I'm learning. You have to push in order to make progress. You have to want it more than anything.
To those I objectify: forgive me: you are beautiful and beauty keeps me sane and alive. To the empty bottle: my dear brother: thank you for another night, another confused blessing. To those who do not wake as I stumble inside and begin the day's writing: may you not wonder as I have in whose heart you will find rest. And to you from whom the sentences flow: night after night, day after day: my yes was not conditional, and I am here.
So a little cold coffee to start. A new shirt maybe. Who knows me, or longs to, has work to do. I begin with you, end with me.